


Remus doesn't Wear Underwear

by PolythenePutz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Not Wearing Underwear, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 02:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15741981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolythenePutz/pseuds/PolythenePutz
Summary: Sirius finds out something about Remus that he just can't forget.





	Remus doesn't Wear Underwear

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the book-canon clothing, where they wear robes most of the time rather than muggle trousers.
> 
> A ridiculously PWP fic, and the results

Sirius never thought of such a thing as not wearing underpants before coming to Hogwarts. Despite his often blasé appearance and penchant for making Hogwarts’ statues gyrate suggestively and paintings bear phalluses in place of each foreground character, he’d started out at school almost prudish in his habits and leanings, thanks to a strict, fear-based upbringing where, really, the worst he’d done as a small child was vanishing his supper from his plate to Regulus’ sock drawer when mum served jellied meat in aspic.

But then, before he'd been properly old enough to find the subject much more than intriguing in a way that stirred something in his belly he couldn’t exactly name, Sirius noticed Remus never had pants strewn about the dorm like the others, though Remus’ living style reached something of an “organized mess” at best, and Sirius wouldn’t have had to look more than a moment to find some _other_ of Remus’ possessions littering the area around his bed. He also didn’t ever catch Remus at the stage of getting dressed where he'd logically be pulling his underwear on. That bit could have been easily explained away with the point that Remus very rarely changed in front of the others anyway. Yet, for whatever reason, Sirius felt compelled to investigate, and he found that there were no pairs of underpants in Remus’ drawers or his trunk, while Remus’ socks, ties, school robes, winter robes, and dress robe all sat in place.

In fifth year, he thought he’d glimpsed something when the Marauders lolled around after a few hits of gillyweed. Sirius had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, his robes stretched across his lap. He’d looked up at Remus who was sitting loosely in an armchair, careless and stoned, long legs parted hip-width in a desultory manner. Remus moved his leg, and the hem of his robes had ridden up to above his knees without his noticing. Sirius’ eyeline swept over Remus as it had done at least twenty times since they’d sat there, and it was in that sweep that he caught a half-second peek up under Remus’ robe, finding a glimpse of naked skin and nothing else covering it. He really hadn’t meant to look. It just sort of happened.

Thankfully, no one else seemed to have noticed, but Sirius’ face got warm and he felt shocked and guilty and shamefully interested. He knew he'd seen something he wasn't supposed to, but he couldn’t possibly forget it. And through it all Remus had looked so blithe, as if Sirius' entire conception of propriety and his friend has not just been demolished and reconstructed in mere seconds. His only viable solution, given the apparent short-circuiting of his brain upon that discovery, was to clear his throat a bit too loudly and start an almost-too-loud conversation on how much gillyweed could get a house elf high, logging the rest away for later assessment.

Sirius reasoned to himself, weeks after, in that way people do when they're trying to explain something to themselves as if the guilty excitable tug at their gut will dissipate if they think it in just the right way, that if Moony can do something like that, Moony who drank his tea with milk and studied in the library and garnered praise from the professors even while a prank of his own doing was unfolding right under their noses, then maybe he should try it out, too.

It was meant to be a simple test. He’d consciously not put on anything under his robes one morning, though it felt odd and disruptive to the usual smoothness of his routine. He’d finished getting ready for breakfast, walked through the halls, and went to class with nothing but his outer robes on just to see how it felt. But Sirius couldn't ignore the fact that he was half-hard all that day, couldn’t seize the realization that he was just like Remus, naked and unencumbered beneath his robes. And he may have been imagining it, but when he and Remus sat in History of Magic together, almost hip-to-hip, he could practically feel the heat of Remus’ body on his own pelvis and imagined it was because of the lightened layers between them. He knew thoughts like that weren’t supposed to occur to him, and he wasn’t supposed to be so fixated on the idea, nor so helplessly distracted by it, but he was, and before he knew it he was beginning to be much more than just half-hard.

“Alright, Padfoot?” Remus bent his neck slightly and turned his head to look at Sirius just to his side, keeping his face close and voice low to avoid being heard over the lesson. He wore a kind half-smile that made his mouth look soft and inviting, and Sirius was sure he shouldn’t be thinking _that_.

“’Course, mate! Why’d you ask?” Sirius was glad he was still able to keep his voice steady and his tone cheerfully indifferent.

“Well, you’ve been fidgeting since we’ve been sat here, and you look a little flushed. You sure you’re alright? Not coming down with something? I’ve never known you to miss any excuse to skive off to see Pomfrey.”

And just like that, the cracks in Sirius’ façade began to widen and leak, picked at by Moony’s bloody questions and his bloody kind voice and his bloody warmth that seemed to spread over Sirius’ side all the more insistently. Sirius willed himself with all his might not to blush further, but he knew it happened anyhow.

“No, Moony, I’ve not taken ill, thank you.” He knew his voice sounded a bit strained and his words awkward and unnatural, but it couldn’t be helped. “Maybe I’m just sick of sodding Binns prattling on about the Goblin Rebellion for the ninetieth time. Are we meant to learn about any other historical event in wizarding history? Merlin…”

“Quiet in the back,” Professor Binns’ airy voice droned.

“Sorry.” Sirius spat sourly, turning his face away from Remus as he said it. He surreptitiously edged his hips away from Remus’ as best he could and refused to look toward his friend for the rest of the class, his best bet at avoiding any further questions or any embarrassing emergencies.

Sirius deemed his experiment an unmitigated disaster, culminating in a frustrated willing down of his “problem” with a cold shower and monosyllabic responses to Remus for days until he caught the hurt in Remus’ eyes and came to his senses.

Sirius wouldn’t try it again for the rest of the year, certainly not while sitting so close to Remus, and certainly not with Remus looking at him the way he’d done.

But something about being expelled that summer from the stuffy hell hole he’d nevertheless called home in a blast of shrieking and shattered fine china, leaving most of his possessions in his quick flight out, and holing up in Euphemia and Fleamont’s slightly dusty guestroom made hang ups and dumb feelings and frustrating werewolves seem to matter a lot less.

And so with a “fuck it” sort of attitude and the graceful nonchalance he’d always wished to cultivate, Sirius returned to Hogwarts for sixth year. Boots, and leather and denim jackets, and ebony hair far longer and messier than he’d ever dared. And nothing on under his robes.

This time round, Sirius simply didn’t care. It was more convenient and less wasteful of space and freeing in a this-is-at-least-one-thing-I-can-control sort of way to never wear underpants. Though there was the sharp little feeling inside that he had a small secret no one really had the right to know unless he let them, and that was quite pleasing in its own way.

It was actually in summer after sixth year when Remus’ mouth found Sirius’ in the dark of the Potters’ guest room and their whispered breaths confessed a desire to keep such activities going between them indefinitely. But with only a few weeks under their relationship belt, they hadn’t done much more than dry hump and snog quite eagerly.

It wasn’t really until seventh year back at Hogwarts that things took a less chaste and admittedly unexpected turn.

Sirius had been happily making out with Remus, both turned toward each other while sitting on Sirius’ bed up in the dorm. Remus had nibbled and licked at Sirius’ lips and Sirius swiped his tongue across Remus’ and pressed his mouth more insistently to Remus’ and grabbed a handful of the front of Remus’ robes in his fist in attempts to bring the other boy closer. They were breathing quite heavily whenever they broke apart to take in a fresh breath, but Sirius had no intention of stopping, didn’t know if he could stop. He wanted Remus closer, wanted to press their bodies together, wanted to feel the other boy all over and around him, and he was getting maddeningly turned on. So, he hoisted himself over Remus’ legs and sat himself down soundly in his lap and continued kissing him from there. Even that was soon not enough, and Sirius wriggled and ground himself into Remus and relished the hard press of their bodies together, seeking more, more.

In his movements and utter enthusiasm, Sirius had caused his own robes to ride up a lot, and naturally Remus’ had as well, and before they knew it their bare thighs were flush against one another, and Sirius continued to grind further into Remus, seeking friction and touch.

Godric, his robes had ridden up so much it revealed that he had nothing on underneath, and he began to blush deeply despite himself, except that Remus looked at this development and all but moaned as he drove forward to bite at Sirius’ neck and grab a palmful of the bare flesh of Sirius’ backside. Sirius gasped and wriggled even more wantonly, not sure whether to push forward into this boyfriend’s pelvis or backward into the strong palm of his hand. He tried to do both at intervals and Remus rocked to meet him in his forward movements. Oh, it felt so good and there was so little separating them now, and if Sirius could just—He pushed his fingers up underneath the hem of Remus’ robes, which by then were covering much less than when they’d started out, and oh, fuck, he’d been right.

Sirius had lifted Remus’ robes enough to reveal that he, too, wore nothing underneath, and when he ground into Remus once more, it was now bare skin against skin, their hips rubbing and cocks sliding and if Sirius wasn’t being driven wild by the incredible feel alone, the utter fervor and naughtiness of it all did him in.

It was in the circling of their hips, the little squeezes and slaps Remus kept giving his arse cheeks, and one lone slide of Remus’ cock against his cleft that Sirius came hard, whimpering and rutting against Remus until the last waves of his orgasm dissipated, and he realized that Remus had come, too.

Pressing his forehead to Remus’ as his breathing evened out, Sirius licked his swollen lips to speak. “I’m never wearing pants again. And we’re never leaving this dormitory again.”

Remus laughed and kissed Sirius’ smile.


End file.
